They Call It a Cliché
by chalantness
Summary: "That's so cliché." "You love it." "Yeah, I guess I kind of do." Mike and Tina, and the aftermath of a slushie incident.


**Characters/Pairings.** Mike/Tina

Disclaimer: Glee © Fox

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**They Call It a Cliché**

By sakuracherish814

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Tina cringed as she heard the bell end sixth period, dismissing them from school for the day. As per usual, she hung back, watching her classmates around gather their things and chat animatedly as they left. Then, a few minutes later, she stood up from her chair and pulled the black poncho over herself before gathering her own books and cautiously exiting the classroom.

She couldn't care less how ridiculous she looked wearing the thing indoors – she just needed to get to her locker and to the bus stop slushie-free.

The slushie wars were hell, but they were also an inevitable part of William McKinley High. What she couldn't fathom is how those jocks acted all tough and superior around the halls, but when it actually came to their games, they were just as sad and pathetic as the kids they nailed with slushies, possibly worse.

As she reached her locker, she took her time, spinning the dial to her combination probably longer than necessary.

She'd experimented with her route several different ways since she had to store her poncho in her locker for the walk to the bus station.

She didn't exactly tell her parents of the slushie wars, or else they would've pulled her out immediately (which she didn't want because she'd finally found her rightful place: glee club), or went to Principal Figgins (something else she couldn't have; she didn't need a _second_ reason for the football team to hound her any more than they already did). But they went ballistic on her as well whenever she showed up home drenched in corn syrup and stained with whatever flavor of the day had been.

The last time she'd hung back, the football team had been gone by the time she headed for the bus stop, so perhaps it'd work again.

But, of course, life just _loved_ to prove Tina wrong.

As she folded her poncho, placed it in her locker, and shut it, she heard a faint squeaking – sneakers against the tiled floors.

She spun around, and instantly regretted it, for she was meant with the all-too-familiar sensation of icy chucks and stinging corn syrup hitting her face.

A booming voice laughed at her. It sounded like Karofksy (he talked the most; the apparent leader of the other mindless idiot jocks), but he also sounded alone, for the chorus of laughter that she'd been accustomed to hearing did not follow his.

Instead, she heard something very different.

A voice shouted, "Karofsky!" very angrily from what sounded like the other end of the hallway.

Why did this voice sound vaguely familiar?

"What the hell?" Karofsky yelled back just as angrily. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Cha—"

But his voice abruptly cut off, and not even seconds later, she heard a large crash against the lockers opposite of her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She blinked furiously, trying to see, but the corn syrup stung like hell, and her attempts just made the burning worse.

It sounded like two people were fighting. No – it sounded like someone was beating the crap out of Karofsky.

"What the fuck's wrong with you, man?" Karofsky yelled angrily, and the way his voice was strained made it obvious he was recovering from a good blow to his gut. "You've turned into another Hudson, haven't you?" Whoever he was yelling at still did not answer. "That damn club's turned you all into a bunch of pussies."

She heard another slam against the lockers, and Karofsky cursed again. Then she heard sneakers squeaking against the tile once more, and then silence.

She braced herself against the lockers again, still not able to see.

When a hand took her wrist, she screamed at once, trying to wrench herself free.

"_Tina!_" the voice hissed. "Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you. It's _me_. Mike."

That stopped her.

"Mike?" she asked back in a shocked whisper.

"Yeah, now come on, let's get you cleaned off," he said, and when he tried to take her wrist again, she didn't struggle.

She heard a door squeak as it was pushed open, and he stopped her, guiding her to the sink. "Um, thank you," she murmured, before proceeding to cupping her hands to fill it with water. After being nailed in the face with those damn slushies so many times, she was an expert at cleaning herself off.

Once she got all of the corn syrup out, she blinked, her vision blurry for a few seconds before it refocused, and she found herself staring back at her own reflection in the mirror.

"Thank you," she repeated, louder this time as she reached for the paper towels and ripped herself some, drying her face.

"Don't thank me," Mike said somewhere behind her. "I didn't get to you in time."

She shook her head. "You saved me."

He shrugged, which she saw through the reflection.

As she spun around to face him, her heart dropped in her chest.

There was a bruise forming underneath his left eye, and a cut that slashed against his right cheek.

She gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth. "Mike," she breathed.

"Don't worry about it," he said dismissively. "Are you okay now? Do you need a ride home or something?" He began to shrug out of his letterman jacket so he could give it to her, but as soon as he moved his shoulders, he froze and clenched his jaw, obviously in pain.

She was at his side in an instant, sliding his jacket back over his shoulders as gently as possible. "Don't, Mike, you've helped me more than enough today."

"Helped? Tina, he nailed you with a slushie before I could get to you," he reminded, voice low but fierce. "You shouldn't thank me for that."

For some strange reason, he seemed… angry?

"But you fought with him," she said, her voice cracking slightly on the word "fought." She just couldn't imagine him – the happy, shy, silently-hilarious gentleman from glee club – getting into any sort of fight, especially on her behalf.

His expression softened immediately, and he reached up to wipe the tear she hadn't even noticed fall down her cheek.

"Hey," he said gently, smiling in an attempt to cheer her up. "I'm okay, you're okay – we're both okay."

"I – I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to compose her shaky voice. "I just – thank you. No one's ever done this for me before."

"Any time," he shrugged as if it was nothing, and then his lips quirked upward into a smile. "Guess this makes you the damsel in distress, and me your knight in shining armor?"

She laughed lightly. "That's so cliché."

"You love it."

"Yeah, I guess I kind of do."

And she stretched up, placing a kiss as lightly as possible upon his cheek, just underneath his bruise, before gingerly wrapping her arms around him in a hug, which he quickly returned. It still hurt a little, but at that moment, he couldn't care less. It was worth a little pain just to be in her arms.

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**A/n.** Short but sweet. It was done for fun because there's just not enough Mike/Tina here on FF. I hope to change that!

It was based off of a Puckleberry one-shot with pretty much the same plot.

_So you read it. Love it? Hate it? Please review it!_


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